Midnight
by souls fire
Summary: a quite interesting story I hope you'll enjoy


Midnight

"Tick." The sound of the wooden clock in the entrance hall echoed throughout my entire home. I was alone, as I was many nights, wide awake, listening to the clock. It seemed as though the constructors of that particular clock had wanted nothing more, than to perhaps irremediably deafen, all living beings in a three mile radius.

"Tack." And here we go again. I thought dejectedly, a sigh escaping my lips, familiar shivers running down my back, tremors going through my body. Fear. I feared this, midnight, ever since I was a child, listening to the stories. It was told that midnight was the time when ghosts made their way into reality, the chains, which from the time of the first "tick", until the last "tack". The ghosts would plunder, destroy and frighten, the fear of mortals seemingly fueling their power, hate and taste for vengeance. Would they find a total of thirteen souls to scare out of their witts, they were free to go, free to enjoy reality, even throughout the day.

"Midnight." A voice whispered from beside me and it took three seconds for me to realize it was not my own.

Turning, I saw, oh God, what did I see? A child, and yet not, something like a thick grey mist, the shadow of a person. Never have I seen anyone like him. He was dressed in some odd pants and shirt, strangely resembling a Japanese kimono, long silky silver hair falling down to his knees, complementing the white colour of his clothes.

I easily distinguished a pattern o red flower petals on the long shirt he wore. Turning my attention towards his face, I gasped, not because of fear, as one would assume, no, it was because of the sheer…perfection of his features: pale skin, tawny ewes, red lips, magenta stripes on his cheek, a midnight-blue crescent moon adorning his forehead. Flawless.

"Tick." He whispered in time with the clock, his voice but a soft reminder of a true sound.

"Who…who are you?" I stammered, suddenly afraid. Afraid of what, I didn't know, but I had the striking suspicion that I feared the pain and indifference his eyes held captive. He chuckled, a small smile gracing his lips, the rayes of the moon granting him an ethearal glow.

"I am eternal, and yet I die each night. I am what you mortals would call a lost soul. I am Henri Masaharu, demon heir to the Thrown of Japan. Or better said, I once was."

His voice was gentle, a caress, but it held nothing, no emotion, nothing. Were all ghosts like this? Empty? Wait, did he just say demon?

"Yes, demon." He answered as if sensing my thoughts, which I hope he did not. And then I saw it, the flicker of sadness in his ewes, a sadness beyond grief and regret, a sadness embedded into his very soul.

"Tack." Only the clock this time, and when I glanced at him, he was looking at the door as if transfixed, before sighing inaudibly.

"Do not scream." He told me quietly, making me wonder just…

"Ahh!" Earsplittening screams devastated the wom, horrid figures in iron chains flying around, the stench of death and discomposure filling the air, things braking and shaking all the while. I looked up, say the hungry glint in their eyes, a devilish smirk on their dead faces, say them coming at me so fast…

And then nothing. Daring to open my eyes, trying to calm my furiously beating heart, I say him, at my side, his hand stretched out before us, a sphere of mistic- blue light around us, keeping the now angry ghosts and their cries at bay. Why was he doing this? Why was he turning on his own kind? But then again, he had been a demon, not a mortal, they would never be his kind. He was alone, just as alone as I was…

Blinking, I saw that he was looking at me curiously, as if asking himself the same questions.

"Why?" I whispered to him, I needed the answer.

"Tick." He murmured. "One more "tick" to go."

"One? Go? Do you need to go?" Why was I asking him this! Was I mad! He was a demon lord, for crying out loud!

But I could see it and feel it. That strangely noble spirit which had never known andything else but solitary sadness, and it was now beyond me to ask myself why, I only wished to show him, even if he was a ghost, a demon, and what else, I wanted to make him smile.

"Tick." We whispered at the same time, our attackers having disappeared already.

"You fear me, as you fear them. I come with midnighy."

"You will protect me." I whispered instinctively, seeing him nod in apprehension, before he too disappeared with the last "tack".

Maybe, just maybe, I wouldn't fear midnighy anymore, after all, whether I could see or not, he was there, with me, protecting me…


End file.
